The Son of A Clown

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for Jester the rest, I.E. Joker, Pamela Isley, Harley Quinn, are the sole property of DC, this is in no way recieving money and is purely for readers enjoyment.

Author's Note: Okay...so here it is...my first real fan fic....this is going to be a violent, gorey ride, with lots of sex, angst, and well..as I said, violence, I would enjoy some feedback if you'd like to give it, but please be gentle with me, I'm not used to doing the whole mature thing yet so be kind.


He slammed his fist into the Joker thugs nose, shattering the cartilidge, he drew back his right hand, with a rotation of his torso he used the forward momentum to slam his palm into the thugs broken nose sending the shards of cartilidge into his brain killing him instantly. The second thug stumbled backwards staring at the man, the man who definitely was not Batman, and who definitely was not a goody-good, spandex wearing, good guy, "W-who the hell are you man?!" He shouted.
The man turned to the thug, his eyes baring down on him, eyes the color of molten steel, eyes the color of the flames of hell, "Call me Jester." he said stepped into the light revealing the grotesque, black painted grin on his face, "And as you can see....I'm a real happy guy...but your friend here," Jester said holding the dead thug by the collar of his shirt, "he's a little dead on his feet." he said and began to laugh, a bone chilling, blood curdling, spine tingling, madmans cackle....a familiar sound but as the Thug was faced with certain death he couldn't quite put into place where he had heard it.
The man came closer to him, he was tall, lean of build with long ebony colored hair and a painted face making it impossible to discern his features, the entire time he advanced towards the thug he dragged his dead colleague with him. He dropped the dead thug in front of the living one and he sat down on the man's chest, "Mmm, I can smell your fear....it's because I was genetically engineered you know....the blood of two psychopaths....a Lexcorp facility, some wine, candles, chloroform, a turkey baster, whips, chains, fuzzy handcuffs, nipple clamps, leather, lace.....a circus midget and a donkey." he said as he began to trail off, "Anyway....I'll give you a little bit about me before I let you go." he said.
The thug stared at the man who'd called himself Jester in disbelief, he was letting him go...he was actually going to let him go. Was this guy fucking insane? Did he not know who he worked for, what the Joker was going to do to him now that he was back in town and taking over again.
"My name....is Ricky Ricardo....I'm married to a woman named Lucy," he began, "We live at 1313 Mockingbird Lane, in Mayberry." he said with a thoughtful look on his face.
The thug was completely shocked, the man was completely off his damned rocker, "Who the fuck are you buddy, when Mister J hears what you've done....he's going to cut your balls off and hand them to you in a pickle jar." He said.
Jester's eyes narrowed suddenly and his hand moved quicker than the eye could see to grab the Thug by the throat and lift him off the ground in a steel vise like grip, he was strong, stronger than he looked, he was nearly six foot, nine inches tall as the Thug had noted before, a little on the thin side but the guy could have been some kind of athlete.
"Mister J....." Jester said softly at first, "Mister J...." he said again getting a bit louder, "Mister-fucking-J is nothing but a circus act, he's a petty crook compared to what I am, you think he can do things to make me scream....oh the things I'll do to you will make even God weep!" he shouted and in the split second he was distracted the thug drew his switchblade from his belt and flicking the switch extending the blade he jammed it into Jester's shoulder. Jester dropped the Thug who stood up triumphantly as he doubled over with a grunt.
"You see, you fucking freak, that what you get when you mess with one of Mister J's boys." The thug shouted in victory as he heard Jester starting to cry, he drew back his booted foot and swung it forward to kick the painted freak in the face when Jester's hand caught it in the same powerful grip he'd used on his throat and that was when the thug came to a stomach churning realization he wasn't crying...he was laughing.
The laughter grew in volume until it was pushing all the air out of Jester's lungs, a cackle of dark and demented amusment. He suddenly twisted thug's foot in a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn, his toes pointing behind him, his ankle shattering, the tendons and ligiments tearing, the Thug fell backwards screaming, "No, that's not how we play the game Ducky." Jester said as he stood tall, the shadows covering his face, only those fierece eyes could be seen, those horrifying eyes, the eyes of the devil himself. Jester grabbed the hilt of the blade and slowly pulled the blade from his shoulder without so much as a flinch, as the blade was finally pulled free and a quick spurt of blood sprang into the air and crimson vitae began to ooze from the wound. Jester began to chuckle menacingly, "I'm going to send you back with a message to your beloved mister J...alrighty Mugsy?" He hissed as he crouched down and leaned in towards the thug, his face hovering inches from the thugs, so close he could smell his breath, and it smelled like blood, and the thug definitely knew what blood smelled like, he'd smelled the same scent on Mister J's Jackal's breath when he went to feed them.
"Oh, oh god, anything you say...I'll give Joker the message." The thug said as he tried not to black out from pain.
"Yes....I know you will, you insignificant little pissant.....because I'm sending him your putrid corpse." Jester hissed, his eyes gleaming with glee, he drew back his right hand, holding the switchblade so tightly the leather of his fingerless gloves could be heard stretching with his grasp and he buried the point of the blade in the thugs skull between his eyes and gave it a violent twist breaking the handle off.
He dropped the handle beside the thug and then reached into the pocket of his black and red duster to remove a folding blade. Once the blade was unfolded he cut open the thugs shirt exposing his tatooed and thankfully hairless chest and then Jester began writing his note , digging the blade into the dead thugs flesh he carved out the letters slowly and carefully, a fit of laughter taking him every so often causing him to pause and regain his composure.

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Commissioner Gordon stood at the Crime scene, it was two of Joker's henchmen, one beaten pretty badly, there wasn't even teeth for a dental recored and the face had been thoroughly pulvarized. he had died almost instantly from the first few blows...hopefully, the other guy, he turned his head to the one pinned to the nearby wall of the old warehouses that formed the alleyway. He examined the objects used to pin the man, broken rebar, possibly from a nearby construction site, the wounds were inflicted post mortem though, the killing blow apparently was the metal object inserted in the thugs forehead, and, he glanced down towards the victims shirt and furrowed his grey brow, a crease appearing in his forehead, he pulled his fountain pen from the breast pocket of his suit and he drew back the scraps of the shirt with it grimacing, "Boys....we uh....we got a problem here." He said calling to the detectives on the scene with him.
"Yessir?" a young officer said.
"There's a message carved into this ones torso.....this wasn't just a random psycho killing, this looks like the start of a gang war." he said as he opened the shirt for the detective to see who took one look, turned green and hurried away around the corner before wretching could be heard, an older more experienced and hardened officer stepped up to read it, rubbing the scruff on his chin, "Fuck You Joker." he said aloud, before chuckling humorlessly at the smiley face carved in at the end with the tongue sticking out, intestines were exposed where the killer had seemed to have lost interest in writing anything else and simply began to stab the corpse.
"Sir we got a real shitstorm brewing.....if the joker find out about this.....if he knows someones weasling in on his turf then he's going to start an all out war in the streets." the officer said.
Gordon nodded, "Light the signal....we need him for this one." he said and the Officer hurried off to use the radio as the young officer returned looking pale and broken out in sweat, wiping his mouth clean of excess vomit on the back of his hand.

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Warehouse district of the docks, that the place he called home, it was low tide so the air smelled of rotting fish and sewage, the familiar smells of the city, somewhere in the distance the horn of a train sounded off. It had begun to rain, cold droplets of water falling from the heavens like the tears of angels, the temperature was starting to drop signalling the end of summer and the beginning of Fall, it was early October, Jester knew because he was staring at the calendar at the diner, the cops had pulled into Crime Alley shortly after he'd left, it had been most entertaining, he'd stayed close by long enough to see a rookie vomit. His face had been scrubbed clean of his facepaint, he was in civilian mode, the think lines of silvery scars were scattered about his pale face. He'd ditched his outfit nearby and was wearing a black business suit, it wasn't expensive. With all the money he had been stealing from the Joker's personal stashes around the city he could afford anything he wanted, Armani, a pentouse apartment, but he chose a cheap custom tailored suit and to eat at a twenty four hour diner where most of the dock workers ate. He had his custom pistol hidden in the holster in the back of his pants, a .45 fully auto machine pistol, something he'd managed to whip up himself.
He'd showered, not that it mattered with the rain outside, and his long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few unruly strands hanging on his forehead, to most it would have been an annoyance but it gave him a casual, approachable look, like he was just a laid back dock worker who just got off a long shift and was looking for a meal. The waitress behind the counter stepped up in front of him and waved her hand in front of his face, "Hey, what can I get'cha handsome?" she asked, Jester looked up, not even realizing he'd been staring down at the Calendar placemat in front of him, a drop of blood fell on the thirty-first, the same day his father had murdererd his mother.....and tried to kill his aunt Pamela, it was lucky for him Auntie Pam was a bit smarter and more resourceful than his father had been, even better than Aunt Selina had been there to help...but they couldn't save his mother...no, he'd been forced to watch it all. Another drop of blood hit the placemat, suddenly he found a clean rag stuffed under his nose, He almost shrank away before he noticed it was the young waitress trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from his nose. He held it there for a moment and dabbed at the blood, "Sorry...must be my sinuses." he said , or the years of drugs his father had pumped into him finally eating a hole through his brain,he thought cynically, but he couldn't get that lucky, not that he was ready to die just yet.
The waitress sighed as he pulled the cloth away and showed her there was no more blood, "Hey hun, you alright?" she asked, "You look like you're sick?"
Jester smiled humorlessly but the waitress found it charming, almost..nonchalant, "Yeah, fine, just hungry, what's good on the menu?" he asked not really caring, he didn't eat, well not in public, and not in sight of people, he could barely stomach food, certain smells reminded him of bad memories and caused.....flashes...sometimes outbursts, even seisures.
"Well, our Chicken Cordon Bleu is mighty tasty, it's a baked, hand breaded chicken breast fillet on an onion bun with smoked ham on top and smothered in melted swiss cheese sauce. She said with a shy smile.
He smiled back and imagined all the things he would do to the pretty young Brunette, cut her throat, bash her brains in with a claw hammer, rape her corpse...well.technically a corpse couldn't say no so rape was purely relative to ones point-of-view. "Chicken cordon bleu it is then....?" he said letting the words trail off to give her an opportunity to give him her name.
"Susie, Susie Quints." she said with a smile as she reached out for him to shake her hand.
Jester almost grimaced as she offered him a handshake but he did it to keep up appearances and replied in kind to her admission, "J....Jackson, Jackson Napier, pleasure to meet you Mrs. Susie Q." He said as his smile broadened, one of his many aliases, "But you can call me Jack...or Jacks." he said.
Susie had begun to blush and chew on her lower lip, she hurried back behind the counter however when the fry cook shouted, "'Ey Suze, wus takin' so long eh?" He asked.
Jester already didn't like the cook, not that he liked Susie.....he just really didn't like that fry cook. A few minutes later she returned with his sandwich and a healthy stack of waffle fries, he looked down at the rather unappealing meal and sighed, he was going to have to eat meat....he was a vegan...Aunty Pamela had taught him that meat was murder, despite Aunt Selina taking him out on occasion as a child to get burgers and fries behind Aunt Pamela's back.
He picked up the large chicken sandwich and took a large bite, he felt so guilty, he could almost hear Aunt Pam, "Jacks, what did I tell you about eating meat.....even poultry, that was a living creature honey." He chewed his bite and choked it down before placing his sandwich back on the plate. He trembled slightly as he recalled that tone she always used when talking to him, so soft, so kind, so loving, the same tone she'd used with his mother, the reason why his father had killed his mother, he felt his stomach turn and the urge to vomit as he closed his eyes, he missed her, he missed his mother, he missed aunt Selina, most of all.....he missed the affection they showed him, now the other bitches in Gotham, they were all perfectly fine to kill, men, women, elderly, but only certain women were exempt, as aunt Pamela and Aunt Selina had taught him, Women were superior to men, women were to be respected and worshipped, unless they stood in the way of a job, his family, or his vengence for his mother.
Susie looked at Jackson, "Jack....are you okay." she asked softly as she got a bit close to him from across the counter.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, directly into her eyes and she shuddered, they were the color of a sunrise, bright orange and yellow like the refraction of a polished citrine, but that's not why she shuddered, she shuddered at the look in his eyes, a look of sorrow and contempt and hatred, pain and anguish all mixed together in one heated package, "Yeah, the taste just reminds me of a restaraunt my Aunt Selina used to take me to." he said quietly, "She's dead now." He finished flatly and emotionlessly, everyone he loved was dead, his father had seen to that, he wanted his son to be as alone in the world as he was, he wanted his son to the perfect criminal just like he was, a rutheless, mindless, twisted, killer.
He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry if that was a bit harsh, it's just she di.....passed away....in a rather tragic manner and I try to distance myself from the memory." He admitted truthfully.
Susie shook her head and laughed nervously, "No....not at all." she said, "I kinda understand I guess, it's like me and my aunt, she used to call me puddin'." Susie said with a chuckle as she turned to grab Jack a cup of coffee, but when she turned around he was gone, his food was left almost untouched except for the one bite and the door was swinging closed, she sighed, he hadn't even looked under his plate, she'd left her phone number.
Jester stood outside the diner in the back behind the dumpsters vomitting violently, Puddin', that was his mother's nickname for his father, another round of wretching and vomitting occurred as the memories flooded his mind, her blonde hair pulled up in pigtails, her blue eyes covered by the black mask, his violet eyes staring her down, that sickening grin permanently stretched across his face, and his laugh, that cackle, that madman's song! He began to vomit again, when he finally managed to regain his composure he stood on unsteady legs, cold sweat on his forehead, and headed to the back side of the dumpsters, he tore off his suit and threw it in the large, foul smelling steel rubbish recepticle, "There is no fucking Jackson Quinzel.....there is only Jester." he whispered, "only Jester." He growled as he slipped back into his outfit, the black and red denim pants, the plated calve high buckle boots, the duster and the armor plated vest, and finally.....he grabbed the duffle bag from behind the dumpster and pulled out his makeup kit before beginning to paint his face again, that grotesque cheshire grin being painted onto his scarred skin after he had lain down the white base, black and white, black and white, that's what his life was and his face paint reflected that. He retrieved his Jester Blaster from the dumpster where he'd accidentally tossed it in his fury when he was literally ripping his suit off, the Jester Blaster was what he called his custom .45 machine pistol. He ejected the clip found it full of Hollow points , he opened his duster and made sure the other clips and weapons where still there as well and when he was satisfied that everthing was in its place he slid the clip back into the pistols grip, slammed his hand into the bottom to make sure it was fully in and then he pulled back the slide to chamber the first round.
One final embellishment was needed for his outfit, he reached into the duffle back for the only remaining item, his top hat, and his walking stick, a rather lavish item with a shaft of chrome plated steel, a head shaped like a skull with with an onyx stone set in the left eye and a ruby set in the other socket, but his favorite feature was the fact that house inside the shaft was a thin titanium blade. He tapped the steel tip of the walking stick on the ground and smiled, "Ah it feels so fucking good to get out of the monkey suit." he said. pistol in one hand and walking stick held in the other like a conductors baton he walked around the side of the diner, up the steps to the front door, tucked the long steel walking stick with the skull head under his arm for a moment and then reached into his duster for a gas grenade he had filled with his father's signature toxin but through his own gained knowledge of chemistry had made far more potent, he pulled the pin, took a step back, made a grand show of winding up the pitch then hurled it through the open door bouncing it off the temple of the fry cook, the gas began to fill the diner, he rushed in pistol blazing, some of the Dock workers were trying to run, but with the extended magazine he was able to wipe them out before many of them made it even halfway to the door, some even before they made it out of their booths all the while his cakling laughter leaving him, laughter so much like his fathers. He stepped up to the counter to find Susie huddled behind it with a rag over her mouth and tears in her eyes.
He reached down and grabbed the girl by the arm before roughly jerking her up, "Get up you quivering, syphillitic sow!" he hissed causing her to cry out, he reached into his duster and removed a gas mask which he roughly put over her face. There came a loud round of laughter from the kitchen as the fry cook was hit with the effects of the toxin, he came stumbling out of the kitchen through the swinging door labled "employees", butcher's knife in hand, driven mad and hallucinating he swung the clever at Jester and Susie.
Jester still had Susie by the arm, he swung her around and pulled her behind him just as he unsheathed the acid etched titanium alloy blade his walking stick housed and with a flick of his wrist severed the cooks knife wielding hand, the cook still laughing hysterically and grinning a unnatural grin looked over at the spurting stump before he threw his head back and howled with laughter, Jester too began to laugh he turned to susie and shouted, "I disarmed him and this guy still fucking laughs, I already like him. " He said and laughed again before ducking under a swing of the cooks remaining fist, he turned and quickly swiped the sword through the air horizontally. At first nothing happened the grinning, hysterical fry cook began to rush them with tears streaming from his eyes and laughter burning through the air like the poinson in his lungs but suddenly he tripped as a line of crimson began to form at the lower part of his stomach, blood welled then began to pour and soon the cut at the base of his great fat belly caused his intestines to spill out and become tangled in his legs. Susie screamed in utter horror at the sight, this man, this maniac had just killed a dozen innocent people including her friend, the man who had been a father to her, she looked at him and saw his pistol on his hip.
Jester wiped his blade clean on the cooks apron then grabbing Susie by the wrist again as he dragged her towards the door. He pushed her throught he door and turned back for a moment, pulling the skull head off of his walking stick he pressed in the hollows of the eyes and tossed it through the window of the diner then strutted away dragging Susie behind him. A few seconds later when they were just barely out of range of the, there came an explosion as the Diner utterly disintigrated into shrapnel and body parts.
Susie finally had to stop when they were far enough away from the scene and off amongst the warehouses where the scent of burning flesh couldn't reach her, the rain pouring down did little to cool the heat in her face, she tore off the gas mask, doubled over and began to vomit. Jester stopped and began to tap his foot as he stood beside her, when she finally righted herself she looked at him sobbing, "Who the fuck are you, why the fuck did you just kill all those people?" she screamed.
"To send a message you....trollop." he growled before turning away from her just for a second to look behind them, that gave Susie the chance to grab his machine pistol and point it at him. He turned when he heard the click of the hammer being pulled back, "Ah....did you take the safety off?" he asked, as he removed his top hat, she stared at him as she flicked the switch for the safety then pulled back the slide chambering a round, "SO you've used a gun before." he said with a grin.
He began to pace, "Do you want me to beg for my life little girl, do you want me to get on my knees and atone for the sins I've comitted before you house some lead in my skull like I did to those dock workers back there?" He asked as he stopped and looked at her.
She wanted to sob again but she steeled herself, "I want to know who the fuck you are!" she screamed.
He stepped forward and got down on his knees in front of her so that the pistols barrel was pressed against his forehead, "Hold it tight, there's a lot of kick, wouldn't want you missing and just wounding me, and be ready because there is going to be a lot of brain matter and arterial spray...now squeeze the trigger." he said patiently.
She stared him down, free hand coming up to brace the pistol, "I'll fucking do it!" she shouted as she began to sob again.
"THEN FUCKING DO IT!" he roared, "Do you think I would give it a second thought if I were your position, do you think for a second that I would hesitate, little girl, there is nothing on this shitty little planet you could ever do to me....that I don't already do to myself on a daily basis....now pull the goddamn trigger!" he commanded.
She began to weep harder her hands beginning to shake, she wasn't a killer, just a few minutes ago she was just a waitress, a girl trying to pay her way through college so she could get a job at Wayne Enterprises.
She tried to bring herself to do it, to shoot this man she didn't know from Adam, but she couldn't do it, she wasn't a killer. Jester sneered and grabbed the pistol away from her as she covered her face and wept, "You fucking see, that's what disappoints me about people these days, they never follow through with anything." he said and putting the barrel of the pistol to her left thigh he pulled the trigger firing a single round into her flesh.
Susie screamed in agony as she fell to the ground. Blood oozed from the wound in her leg. He brought the gun to level with her face and she looked up at him, two big blue eyes full of fear and sadness, he stared her down but all he could see in those eyes was his mother, the way she used to look at him after his father finished beating her, or after she finished a particularly difficult job.....he lowered the pistol and she tried to crawl away from him. He holstered his pistol and reached into one of the many pockets in his duster for a syringe whick he jammed into her right buttock, "Give a message to Gordon when he finds you...Gotham will fall on Halloween." He whispered before easing her head back onto the ground as she fell unconscious. He reached into her pocket for her cellphone and dialed 911 then put on his best panicked victim voice, "There's been an explosion at the Diner by the Bay, I think I saw someone manage to crawl away, a young female about twenty, there was a crazed gunmen dressed like a clown shooting people before the explosion." he said as he began to feign crying, "Who am I?" he repeated the dispatchers question, hanging up without answering before dropping the phone to the ground and bringing his booted heel down on it.